Friends
by Mirror Of Words
Summary: Devil Survivor 2. "Are we… friends?" "…yeah. J-Just friends, alright? I'm not into b-bromance and shit, so if you are, t-tough luck!" "…heh. Friends." [triumphant ending spoilers, keita fate events spoilers, mild jungo fate event spoilers]


**::Title: **Friends

**::Full Summary: **"Are we… friends?" "…yeah. J-Just friends, alright? I'm not into b-bromance and shit, so if you are, t-tough luck!" "…heh. Friends."

**::Rating: **T

**::Genre: **Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

**::Characters: **Keita Wakui, Jungo Torii, cat-Jungo.

**::Pairings: **Implied Keita/Jungo heheh.

**::Image: **Found on Tumblr and edited with online editor. Will be taken down by owner's request.

**::Warnings: **Some language, spoilers. Occurs after Restorer/Triumphant (Daichi's) Ending. Possible OOCness.

So, what are true friends?

Mmmmh, I wanted to post this for quite a while. There aren't many fics for DeSu2. And I really like the Keita/Jungo relationship. I guess this is sort of a take on how they met again? As seen in the Triumphant Ending's credits...

Comments and critisms would be appreciated. :)

* * *

A rattling of metal against metal was heard, then, with a long creak, the steel gate was opened, followed by the creak of an opening door to the small, cramped but – to its owner – comfortable apartment.

A pile of toppled newspaper rustled, then, the small head of a cat popped out of it, its right ear twitching enthusiastically upon detecting sounds. The cat mewed out a greeting as fotsteps sounded in the apartment and rebounded against the walls, making sure it wasn't mistakened.

"I'm home, Jungo."

Reassured that its owner was the one entering the house, the cream-coloured cat rocketed out of the pile of newspapers, sending a few stray sheets into the air to welcome its beloved owner after a long day of work. It scrambled towards the door, but, upon picking up another scent, one that it failed to recognize, it stood upright, its tail shooting upwards, and hissed with hostility.

The nineteen-year-old stepped into the room, smiling upon setting his gaze onto the cat named after himself. "Don't worry, Jungo," he reassured, the cat calming down upon hearing his voice. "He's a friend."

With that, the grey-hoodied Jungo Torii let out a small grunt as he supported the boy, with a slender hand slung over his shoulder, into the apartment, taking precautions as to not let the grey-haired male bump into anything, which was turning into quite a feat, considering how cramped the small apartment is. Cat-Jungo trailed behind him, still suspicious of the stranger its owner was lugging in.

"I told you, d'don't need y'help…" the boy barely mumbled, leaning against Jungo, tired out. Jungo "mmm"-ed but continued to lead the boy into his apartment, paying no heed to his words, and soon successfully settled him onto a two-seater grey couch. After making sure the boy was comfortably seated, Jungo took a few steps back – almost bumping into his red mini-television in the process – and took a look at the boy.

The boy was – in a blunt way, Jungo thought – a mess. The boy, leaning back against the couch with his eyes closed, his chest rising up and down lightly, had wounds scattered all around him, something he earned while protecting the chef. A bleeding cut on his cheek, a bruise proving to be almost the length of his forearm upon rolling up his black jacket's sleeve…

His pet cat – adopted from a kind, blonde haired doctor – leapt onto the couch and pawed at the boy's pocket curiously, picking out a black leather wallet, and nudged it at Jungo's direction. Said person picked up the wallet and flipped it open – "Smart Jungo." "Meow!" – hoping to find an ID or sorts. Sure enough, he did.

"Keita… Wakui." Jungo read aloud, prompting a meow from the cat and a grunt from the real-life version of the boy glaring at him with a stern look from the ID.

"Wha… hey, give that b-ack…" Keita, realizing his wallet was in the possession of Jugo, staggered upon standing up, urging Jungo to help him settle back onto the couch once more. "Leggo'f me…"

"You're hurt," Jungo said in reply. "Let me help you."

"Don't need y'help…!" Keita growled, wanting to lunge at Jungo, but winced; the pain on him was too strong. Irritated, he muttered a "tch!" and let Jungo have his way. Jungo smiled, happy that the sixteen-yeay-old had finally decided to cooperate, and walked off to find a first-aid kit. As he did so, the cat stared at him curiously, head tipped to one side, an ear twitching, unaffected by Keita's menacing glare.

"What're you starin' at?" the boy barked. When the cat merely meowed in response, Kieta sighed and stared away, his gaze sweeping across the apartment. A small balcony with a clothes hanger and a wildly-growing cactus, green and thorny. White curtains. A small stack of newspaper, fallen ones beside it. A small red telly against the wall adjacent to him, and a brown coffee table with piles of magazines atop it. A small bookshelf filled with cook books. A picture hanging on the wall behind him. Upon closer inspection (with slight difficulties), he realized it was of a group of children, smiling vibrantly at the camera, along with a few adults dressed alike. He barely recognized the person who took him in.

_Keh…_

How did he get into this mess?

He felt something furry tickling his legs and yelped, noticing that annoying cat rubbing against his leg lovingly – but, to Keita, it was more like _annoyingly_. "H-Hey, stop that, you dumb cat!" he spat, barely managing to resist the urge of making a fool of himself by succumbing to the warm, comfy, tingly feeling. He jerked his leg roughly, prompting the cat to leap back and hiss at him angrily. "Shut up." Keita spat in reply.

That was when the boy clad in the shirt with a fish emblazoned on it along with a bubbly-font phase – "Fish or Die!" – came back, a small first-aid kit in his hand – hell, it seemed everything that person owned was small. Keita duly noted that his jacket and hoodie was off – his hair was a ruffled, messy black similar to his eyes – as he knelt in front of him while the cat mewed and rubbed affectionately against his back.

Before he even opened the kit, a white cup of whatever-the-hell-it-was with so much hostility it might as well have melted into a puddle of goo.

"Eat. It's still warm." The chef urged. When Keita showed no signs of improvement, he pressed on. "It's chawanmushi. My specialty."

"…uhh…"

"Jungo, thinking that the boy hadn't the appetite to eat it yet, set it onto the coffee table, prompting cat-Jungo to sniff it curiously (and soon abandon it). The chef opened the first-aid kit, then proceeded to roll up Keita's pant leg. Keita winced, pain erupting from the wound on his leg, but bit his lip to suppress it – soon enough the metallic taste of blood stung his tongue.

His mind drifted off to when and how he received the wounds, and, soon enough, his fists had balled up at his sides.

"Why did you help me?" the question came out before he knew it, and, soon enough, Jungo had stopped tending to his wound and stared up at him. "Why are you helping me?" he repeated.

"Hmm?" the chef mused a moment; "Because you helped me. And friends help each other."

Keita clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Dumbass. I didn't help you. That bastard has a debt left unpaid. I just happened to see him so I stepped in to whoop his ass."

"You saved me."

"No, I didn't."

The two lasped into silence once more, only broken by the occasional wince by Keita and meow by the cat.

His thoughts drifted back to the bastard he was beating up before, with the smug look on that face he wanted to punch in so badly. He could still hear that douche's voice mocking him in his ears: "Oh, aren'cha Takashi and Saeko Wakui's son? Ha, right down to the shit-eating face! What's wrong? Come to pay back yo' responsible parents' debts? Or y'hear to get into one y'self? Da ha ha!"

Keita had given him a punch to the jaw in response, and from there all hell broke loose. "What's wrong, Wakui?" he had mocked with a bleeding nose, "Here to get payback for your parents, huh? Not half as bad as your old man, huh? Too bad he ain't here to see this!"

Now that he thought of it… why had he cared to beat the crap out of that man, anyway? Didn't he downright loathe his parents for what they did? Going headfirst into an unrepayable debt, then wimping out and leaving him to himself… how could they do that?

Those irresponsible bastards… he could never forgive them…

The weight on the couch shifted suddenly, and Keita belatedly realized that the man had settled onto the couch, the first-aid kit in his hands…

…and that his face was barely inches away from him.

"Wh – h-hey!" Keita nearly fell off the couch furthering away from him. "Wh – y-you're too close! Too close!"

He had a quizzical expression on his face. "…? I'm just checking your cheek wound…"

"You don't need to come that close to me, dumbass!" he barked in reply.

That was when the man put up a face that uncannily resembled a kicked puppy's face, and Keita felt his gut twist. What the hell? Now he felt like everything was his fault! Damn it!

"…f-fine!" Keita righted back into his original position. "Just don't k-kiss me or weird out or something, alright? A-And not too close!"

Jungo smiled, then dabbed at Keita's wound lightly with antiseptic. He winced, the pain shooting through him, but he bore it right until the chef had slapped a bandage over it.

"There." Jungo closed the kit with a smile. "You're done."

"Right." Keita bolted up from the couch. "See ya." He headed towards the door.

"Wait…" he heard the chef call out to him, not to mention a "meow!" from the cat. Keita turned back to look at Jungo, scowling, purposely averting gaze with the cat – that hissed at him, the nerve!

"What? I'm not in for sappy goodbyes. I don't even know you. I'm grateful for you, alright?"

He expected a "no, don't go", but, instead, Jungo grabbed the cup on the table and held in out to him.

"You haven't tried my chawanmushi yet."

Keita faceplamed, then yelped upon hitting his cheek in the process.

…

"You don't have a home, do you?"

"What?"

Keita set the finished cup of chawanmushi onto the coffee table (He finished it for not wanting to see the man's kicked puppy face that made anyone feel guilty) and stared at Jungo incredulously.

"I do, dumbass," he lied lamely, and decided he needed to get the hell out before he weirded out on him again. "What kind of question is that? Speaking of which, my mom's – " he bit his tongue " – probably worried, so I'm going to leave, now," He stood up from the couch, ready to leave.

"You're just like me."

"What's with your ass?" he rounded on him. "Can't you just leave me alone – "

"My parents left me when I was young."

Keita paused, staring at the person in front of him.

"Even so, I had lots of fun. I was happy. Because everyone at the orphanage was nice. Everyone was kind to me. They were my friends."

Keita snapped.

"Friends are useless, dumbass!" he shouted, his fists clenched at his sides tightly. "All they do is get in your way and abandon you when you need them the most! And then they come back to you trying to get on your good side again! Those are friends? Ha! If that's what they are, then I'd rather not have any!" He gritted his teeth in anger. "And I don't need you, either! You're just getting in my freaking way, trying to seem all nice to me by helping me! What's your problem, strutting around like a – "

His eyes widened as he stiffened.

Wha…

Did… did he just…

_Did he just hug him?_

No, he wasn't mistakened – Jungo, who was, earlier on, seated on the couch, had now approached him, hands encircled around him… warm… comforting… Even the cat rubbing at his legs was strangely affectionate…

Warm and… comforting…

"That's not what true friends are like," the chef whispered softly," True friends help you when you're in danger."

A vague something nagged at Keita's mind. What was it…

_J…_

_Jun…_

"True friends will always be by your side…"

"_Jungo!"_

"_Keita!"_

"_Hmph… I was just passing by. That's all."_

"_Keita… thank you."_

"_Hmph… whatever. I'm getting out of here."_

_Jung…_

"True friends… they care for you."

"Jungo!"

…

He didn't know how long he cried after that, but all he knew was that Jungo was there with him, all the way through.

…

"Keita?"

"…"

"…"

"What."

"Are we… friends?"

"…"

"…"

"…yeah. J-Just friends, alright? I'm not into b-bromance and shit, so if you are, t-tough luck!"

"…heh. Friends."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"Goodnight, Keita."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…goodnight."

* * *

**A/N**: If I'm right, they don't actually remember what happened in the end (except for the protagonist) but I prefer if they did...

About cat-Jungo... I couldn't resist x3 I planned on calling cat-Jungo Jungo but I figured it would be too confusing, heheh. The blonde doctor Jungo adopted cat-Jungo from is, of course, Otome. :)

I'm sorry if I screwed up anything ^^" especially about Keita's personality. I actually prefer anime!Keita more because he's so tsundere x3 I wanted to lean towards that. Also, I have the thought (headcannon?) that Keita has a vunerable side...

With that said, I hope everyone enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

Till next time, :3


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